


Give Me My Sin Again

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their classrooms were side by side and it wasn’t unusual for her to hear his gravelly voice as he stood before the class, reiterating a passage or prodding his students into a discussion. It was that voice that drew her in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Got a prompt from the most adorable liddym2113 for "Romeo & Juliet of the math and english department in school" AU. Lord knows I tried to keep it short but as usual, I failed miserably.  And obviously, I own nothing. Da nada. 

Rick Grimes, principal of Woodbury HIgh and part time relationship adviser to his best friend, watched in silent amusement as that selfsame friend flicked glances across the lounge at the object of his affection. 

“Quit staring like a lovesick school boy and go ask her out,” Glenn Rhee urged quietly. He had more to say but the words bottled up in his throat as fierce blue eyes pinned him in place. “Sorry, dude, but the way you moon over her every day is pathetic.” A growl of displeasure escaped the man and prompted Rick to put a staying hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“The man’s got a point, Daryl,” Rick pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a sucker for longing looks and heartfelt sighs. Why do you think we’ve been friends for so long?” As he hoped, that comment brought a wry snort. “Carol though, the lady strikes me as someone who likes to take her medicine straight. Just ask her.” 

Nervous blue eyes darted across the room, fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the table top. “She’ll say no. You know she will. Fuck, what’s a woman like that want with a redneck asshole like me?”

“You don’t know that!”

“Don’t give up before you’ve even left the gate.” 

“You’ve got a decent ass. Women like that.”

Three sets of eyes swung toward the speaker, brows lifted and mouths a perfect O of surprise. Hershel Greene calmly looked around as he finished his sandwich. “What? The boy does have a nice ass. Anybody can see it. Half the writing on the girl’s bathroom wall mentions it. There’s even a few lines in the boy’s.” 

Silence reigned for a few drawn out seconds but then Rick started chuckling, quickly followed by Glenn. Daryl shared a glare around the table, eyes narrowing as their laughter blossomed into full on gales. He looked accusingly at the old man, who looked back unconcerned. One corner of his mouth lifted into a grin, and then he joined in, the knot of tension in his gut easing. 

“Alright then,” he conceded. “I’ll do it. What have I got to lose?” 

* * *

The torrent of laughter pulled their heads around, curious as to what the others found so funny. Michonne craned her neck, shaking her head when she saw Rick wiping away tears as he slapped Daryl Dixon on the shoulder.

“That can’t be good,” she murmured to herself. When those two cooked up one of their schemes, most times  all hell broke loose. She tried to catch Rick’s eye to remind him of their plan to run interference for Daryl and Carol. Those two had been dancing around each other for the past year but little forward progress had been made. Their friends had decided among themselves that enough was enough. Their time had come. 

Carol pushed her salad aside, her interested gaze on the table across the way. Daryl glanced toward her and then just as quickly away. As usual. And, as usual, her pulse fluttered like a wild thing. Her fascination with the taciturn English teacher began shortly after he came to Woodbury. Their classrooms were side by side and it wasn’t unusual for her to hear his gravelly voice as he stood before the class, reiterating a passage or prodding his students into a discussion. It was that voice, reading an excerpt from Jack London’s “The Call of the Wild” that drew her in. 

_“He had learned well the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage or drew back from a foe he had started on the way to Death. He had lessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time, he obeyed._ ” 

He read each word slowly and succinctly, the timbre of his voice like warm honey as his south Georgia drawl curled around each syllable. Carol didn’t realize she’d stopped her lesson altogether to listen, not until her students tittered behind their hands. Blushing furiously, she gave the class a stern look and picked up where she’d so abruptly left off. 

“I wonder what that’s about,” Andrea Harrison, the pretty blonde accounting teacher, chimed in. “Maybe they’re planning a boy’s night out. You should find out, Michonne. If they are, we need to get something together. Can’t let them have all the fun.” 

“That’s an idea,” Michonne nodded agreeably. “Another is for Carol to ante up and cash in on all that unresolved sexual tension she stockpiling with Mr. Dixon.” An impish grin tugged her lips up at the corners. “Just go over there and ask that man over for dinner. If you’re lucky, he’ll provide dessert.” 

“Jesus, Michonne,” Carol’s cheeks burst into flame. “Have you lost your mind?”

Michonne rolled her eyes, and then traded aggravated looks with Andrea. “You want him. Don’t sit there and tell me that you don’t. And it’s obvious from the way he watches you that the man feels the same. One little question. That’s all it’ll take. C’mon, Carol, you know you want to. Just do it.” 

“You should,” Andrea echoed. 

Carol gnawed her lip as she allowed herself another look in his direction, a shiver running through as her gaze collided with his. “Okay, I will,” she heard herself say. The whoop of joy from her friends made her smile even though inside, she was shaking. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

usual disclaimer here....i own nothing. 

_“All she knew for sure was that right here and now, she was falling hard and she could only pray that he was feeling the same way.”[Nicholas Sparks](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2345.Nicholas_Sparks), _[Safe Haven](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/10829530)_  _

“What did I do? Oh God, what did I do?”  Her heart pounded in her ears like thunder as she hurried back to her table, avoiding the avid gazes of her friends as she gathered up her things. “What was I thinking? Oh God.” 

“Oh fuck! Damn Rick and damn me for letting him talk me into this.” His shoulders made a taut line as he stalked back to his chair, his face a frozen mask. 

_Did ya do it? Did ya ask her? C’mon, man, just tell us already._  

_Is it a date? Did ya ask him? C’mon, Carol, don’t make us wait._

_What did he say?  
_

_What did she say?_

* * *

Before her nerves got the better of her, Carol pushed away from the table, avoiding their sudden interest, and strolled across across the room, eyes fixed on Daryl’s broad back. She hesitated when he suddenly stood up and whirled toward her, his own steps coming up short when their eyes collided. 

“Carol.” 

“Dinner.” Her words came out right on top of his. He floundered but she rallied before the voices clamoring in her head talked her out of it. “My house tonight. Say seven o’clock? 254 Woodbury Lane.” She waited until he nodded before returning it with one of her own. She walked away. He did the same. 

“What did he say?”

“What did she say?

The conversations at the two tables were virtually identical.

“Dinner. Tonight. Her place.” 

“Dinner. Tonight. My place.” 

Rick grinned and slapped Daryl on the back. “It’s about time.”

Michonne smiled and saluted Carol with her coffee cup. “It’s about time.” 

Carol sneaked a glance over her shoulder and felt a shiver creep up her spine when she saw Daryl looking back before that cool blue gaze skipped away and then came right back. He smiled and ducked his head in her direction. She smiled and held up seven fingers, letting out a breath when he nodded again. 

Michonne, now wearing a satisfied expression that she made no attempt to hide, saluted the pair with her cup and drawled, “I want to know every single detail, Carol. Every single one.” 

* * *

Of course the power would choose that night to go out. It flickered, shrouding the house in darkness for several long minutes before reluctantly coming back on. Carol looked out the window, crossing her fingers and muttering a halfhearted prayer, only to see the lights go down again. 

“Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.” 

She brought up his number and keyed the button to connect the call. Straight to voicemail. Why did it seem like the whole world was against her tonight? She eyed the steaks on the counter, the freshly scrubbed potatoes in a bowl, the bottle of wine sitting alongside two of her best glasses. 

“My kingdom for a gas stove or even a charcoal grill,” she grumbled as she retreated to the living room where she eyed the fireplace thoughtfully. “Well, it’s not a completely crazy idea. I mean, he likes the outdoors, right? According to Rick, he spends his weekends getting back to nature and all that. Maybe he’d go for it.” 

Like any good Southern girl, Carol had a goodly number of cast iron skillets in her possession. She’d never used them to cook over an open flame, much less the gas ones in her fireplace, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She’d promised a home cooked meal and that’s what she was going to deliver. 

She got the fire started with practiced ease and then made several trips to the kitchen to gather what she needed. Carol planned to concentrate on the steaks and to heat up a few tins of canned vegetables to round out the meal. It wasn’t what she’d planned but it was better than nothing. Fingers crossed, she seasoned the meat and slid it into the pan before balancing her improvised rack over the flames. 

* * *

Daryl pulled his truck into her driveway and parked just behind her car. He got out and walked around the front of his truck to get a better look at it. An bewildered grin bloomed on his face as he took it in. An MG Midget…candy apple red with a black soft top, a ragged out interior with what looked like duct tape in spots. 

“Where in the hell did she find such a fossil?” He wondered aloud. “Damned thing looks like it needs a wind up key to get going.” 

“Everybody’s entitled to an opinion,” a familiar voice called from behind him. “It’s cheap on gas, has character, and easy to park. Can your bastard of a truck say the same?”

Daryl grinned at her tone, that half sweet/half biting edge that caught his attention the first time he heard it, and turned around to meet her gaze. “My truck sucks gas like a bitch and it takes a football field to park it. As for character, well your little toy comes out ahead on that front. But it’s good for hauling my bike and I need a 4-wheel drive to get to to my cabin. So I guess it’s like you said. Everybody’s got an opinion.” 

He stopped on the bottom step and looked up at her, framed by a trellis that followed the line of the porch. It was covered with blooms, white with the slightest dusting of yellow in the center.  She was beautiful. “Am I early?”

Carol shook her head, a becoming blush tinting her cheeks. “Power’s out. Didn’t you notice? I tried to throw something together but it…well…it didn’t work. Not like I’d hoped anyway.” The look on her face was an odd combination of misery and embarrassment. “Most of the places that deliver have closed. There was some kind of explosion at a transfer station. No idea when they’ll get it back up.”  She shrugged and twined her fingers together nervously. “I’ve got sandwiches and chips. And beer.” 

He ascended the steps and laid a careful hand on her shoulder, waiting until she met his gaze before offering up one of those sideways smiles that tripped her heart. “I like sandwichs and beer,” he murmured. “And good company. So are we still on?”

“I’m game if you are,” Carol threaded her fingers through his and led him toward the door.  

(there will be one more chapter after this) 


	3. Chapter 3

 

_Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took.  
Romeo: Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again. _

The morning sun splashed random puddles of light on the dusky gray carpet before climbing atop the mattress to tease her awake. Carol buried her face in the pillow, groaning in protest as the insistent warmth drew her closer to consciousness.  _Turn it off,_ she growled inside her head as she covered her eyes with her arm and then rolled on her side, hoping to slip back under for a few more minutes. Her right side. The thought nipped at her mind, making sleep that much more elusive. Her right side. What? Why? 

She lifted her head and cracked an eye open to peer blearily at the clock. A slack weight around her waist confused her further. She blinked and then again before she saw his hand splayed on the sheet. Her gaze traveled the length of a well muscled arm, over broad shoulders, before coming to an abrupt halt on the tousled dark head resting on her usual pillow. She gasped, bit back a curse as a sliver of blue became visible behind his fringe. His lips quirked into a grin and then he reeled her in for a leisurely kiss. 

Tracing her jawline with his thumb as he pulled away, he stared at her for a full minute before whispering in a voice still rough with sleep, “Morning.” 

Carol’s eyes widened at the way his gentle touches felt familiar, welcome. She swallowed noisily and then managed a quavering reply. “Morning.” 

* * *

 

Ham sandwiches, plain potato chips and lukewarm beer wasn’t quite what she had in mind when she’d invited him over. Whether it was good manners or a genuine liking for such simple fare, she couldn’t bring herself to ask, But he cleaned his plate and asked for another without the slightest hint that he was being anything but sincere. They were well into the second six pack when the questions started. Favorite color, hometown, music, sport. He smirked when she shyly revealed her talent at playing pool. She snorted out a laugh when he regaled some stories about his big brother, Merle. The man’s exploits were legend in the small town back in Georgia where they grew up. 

“So what about you?” She questioned when the laughter wound down. “What were you known for back in Senoia? There has to be something else besides being Merle Dixon’s baby brother.” 

Daryl shrugged as he took a long pull from his beer, the tips of his ears more pink than the alcohol accounted for. She’d already figured out that he didn’t like to talk about himself, preferring instead to wax poetic about the history of his small town and the colorful characters who resided there. Carol listened in rapt silence, carried away as always by his voice and how he talked with his hands and his everchanging expressions and the keen intelligence cleverly masked behind a solemn facade. That person...that observant, self-effacing, quiet and thoughtful man...that’s who she’d hoped to get to know when she invited him into her home. Slowly but surely, that man was coming out of his shell.

“Hunting, motorcycles, local folklore, a big brother whose a military career man.” She ticked off her fingers as she listed the topics they’d covered thus far. “How’d you get to be an English teacher? At least tell me that.” He shifted uncomfortably and tipped his beer up to drain the bottle. It was right on the tip of her tongue to tell him to forget it when he dropped his head and started fidgeting with his hands. 

“Had a neighbor,” he confided in a gruff undertone. “Dale Horvath was his name. He and his wife lived just down the road from us. Merle was usually off raising some kind of hell cause that’s what he did. Me, I kept to myself. Usually in the woods or just out someplace walking. Went by his house one day and saw him working on an old RV in the driveway.” A winsome smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It was a piece of shit, better off in the scrap yard than trying to do anything with it, but he wouldn’t hear that. Said him and the missus was gonna take that RV out one day on the road trip of a life time.”

“He saw me dawdling on the side of the road and waved me in. Said if I would lend him a hand, he might be able to persuade his wife to free up some lemonade and cookies. Fresh made. A whole plate full if I’d help him out. Spent the whole afternoon tinkering with that damned thing, rusty and useless as it was. Dale though, he acted like it was the most important job in the world. And those cookies, ain’t nobody makes chocolate chip cookies like Irene Horvath.” 

Carol grinned at the wistful tone and motioned for him to continue as she crossed the kitchen and reached into the cabinet for a plate. He watched with interest as she reached into a ceramic jar on the counter and came out with a handful of cookies. She came back and plunked the saucer down in the middle of the table, snatching one that teetered on the edge and popping it into her mouth. Daryl grabbed one and took a bite, groaning low in his throat as the buttery cookie melted in his mouth. 

“Comes mighty close but she’s still got you beat,” he announced as he reached for another. “Anyway, it became something to do, helping the old man from time to time. We’d work on that RV or I’d help him out with the mowing and gardening. He took me fishing, let me use his fancy reels and bait and everything. He talked and talked and I listened, just taking it all in. History. Classics. Poetry. Made me read Walden once cause I made fun of his hat.” 

“Did they get to take their trip?” Carol inquired softly. Tears stung the backs of her eyes when he shook his head. 

“Cancer,” he left it at that and she didn’t press him further. 

“So what was your favorite thing he told you to read?” She asked eagerly. “Your absolute favorite.” 

To her surprise, he straightened and met her look head on for almost the first time that evening. “  _To be nobody - but -yourself-- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else--means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting... _Because nothing is quite as easy as just being just like somebody else. We all of us do exactly this nearly all of the time--and whenever we do it, we are not real._ _If, at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and working and feeling, you find you've loved just once with a nobody-but-yourself heart, you''ll be very lucky indeed._ ”  _

The change in him was palpable...the tilt of his head, the proud set of his shoulders, the confidence in his voice as he spoke those words. Her gaze affixed itself to his mouth, mesmerized by the way his lips moved, the cadence and timbre of every syllable running through her like an electric current, bringing every bit of her to shivering awareness. He must have noticed the change because he trailed off, studying her in the flickering light of the lone candle sitting forgotten on the counter. 

“There was another one, not one he told me about but by the same guy. I always liked it.” 

“How does it go?” Her voice was tattered at the edges, broken and thready and she saw the muscles in his cheek tighten as his gaze swept her features again. 

“ i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing.” Her pulse pounded like thunder, blood rushing through her veins as his molasses slow drawl brought the ee cummings poem to life. “ Muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body.  i like what it does,i like its hows.” His hand settled on her shoulder, tracing the delicate line of her collar bone to the silk/satin curve of her neck where her pulse fluttered against his thumb like a wild thing. “  i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones,and the trembling-firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again...” His eyes bore into hers, fiery and molten and she felt herself sway closer, the hand on the back of her neck urging her on until she was right there, his breath a warm tide on her lips. He stopped then, giving her the opportunity to call a halt if she so wished it. 

Carol didn’t know what demon, what impetus moved her forward but her whisper was almost lost in the ungentle union of their lips as she finished the line for him.  “Kiss.”     

* **credit for A Poet’s Advice to students and i like my body when it is with your goes to ee cummings. Merely borrowing them here for my own amusement.**


	4. Chapter 4

 

_“She wasnt exactly sure when it happened. Or even when it started. All she knew for sure was that right here and now, she was falling hard and she could only pray that he was feeling the same way.” ―[Nicholas Sparks](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2345.Nicholas_Sparks),  _[Safe Haven](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/10829530)__

“So, Carol, how did it go?”

Her shrug could have meant anything, as could her noncommittal expression. “It went fine. He came over. We had dinner. We talked.” 

“And?” Michonne’s stare pinned her in place, demanding that she spill every detail so they could dissect it at will. 

“And that’s it,” Carol grinned at her friend’s disbelieving tone. “It was a pleasant evening. We may do it again sometime.” 

Michonne watched her walk away before muttering a curse. Something didn’t add up and she refused to be left in the dark. If Carol wouldn’t come clean, she would have to find another source. She headed down the hallway, planning her strategy as she went. Rick would have the low down. There was no way Daryl wouldn’t have spilled the beans. The way those two gossiped made her shake her head most days but today she blessed that tendency. 

One way or another, Michonne was going to find out the whole story. 

* * *

 

Carol waited until she was out of sight before ducking into an empty classroom and pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. She felt bad, she did, for disappointing Michonne. It was the first time in their long friendship that she’d willfully withheld information. She just couldn’t bring herself to talk about it yet. Not yet. 

She wanted to savor it. Go over everything in her mind. Convince herself that it had happened. That it wasn’t just a figment of her overactive imagination. 

_“I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones,and the trembling-firm-smoothness and which i will again and again and again...” His eyes bore into hers, fiery and molten and she felt herself sway closer, the hand on the back of her neck urging her on until she was right there, his breath a warm tide on her lips. He stopped then, giving her the opportunity to call a halt if she so wished it._

_Carol didn’t know what demon, what impetus moved her forward but her whisper was almost lost in the ungentle union of their lips as she finished the line for him.  “Kiss.”_

_They kissed their way across the kitchen, down the hallway, and through the door of her bedroom before they came up for air. Her wide eyes were full of questions when they parted. He stared back, his breath coming short as he waited for some signal from her on how to proceed._

_“”What are we doing?”  Carol couldn’t believe she’d asked him that. She dropped boneless on the foot of her bed, wishing she could just sink through the floor.  
_

_“Not sure,” he returned quietly. “I guess it’s up to you.”  
_

_She laughed before she caught herself and then again at the his surprised expression. “I didn’t expect you to break out the EE Cummings. How’s a girl’s supposed to hold out against that.”_

_it was her turn to be surprised when he chuckled...a warm husky sound that lit up his whole face. “I didn’t expect tonight would turn into a poetry recital.”  He sat down about a hands width away and turned toward her. “I didn’t expect a lot of things that’s happened this evening.”_

_Carol felt her face going up in flames, the memory of how it felt to be in his arms with his mouth on hers and the whole world falling away rolling through her mind. “Me either.” Some playful impulse prompted her to add. “But I’m not sorry. I liked it.”  His answering blush pleased her. She filed the image away for later and then swiftly changed the subject. “I love to read but I don’t have as much time for it as I used to.”_

_“What’s your absolute favorite?” The question had both of them looking away, red staining their cheeks. Those very words led to their earlier activities. Daryl gulped, peering at her from the corner of his eye.  
_

_It came from nowhere. A half forgotten line that she remembered from the previous semester, listening to him through their shared wall and thinking if her high school teacher sounded like that, she probably would have paid more attention. “Give me my sin again.”_

_She barely had time to register the movement before he was on her again._

* * *

 

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know? You have to know.” _  
_

Rick shot her an exasperated look before turning his attention back to the pile of paperwork before him. “I don’t. Haven’t seen him all day. There’s a school board meeting tomorrow and I have to get through this. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Michonne echoed in a high pitched voice. “That’s a stupid question. We’re talking about Daryl Dixon. The man’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox. C’mon, Rick, he’ll talk to you. You know he will.”

“He will,” Rick repeated. “When I get the time to ask him about it.” He looked up and his mouth quirked into a smile. “But that won’t be now.” 

Michonne levered herself out of the chair and paced back and forth before spearing him with a resolute look. “Invite him over for dinner. I’ll invite Carol. We won’t need them to tell us a thing because we’ll be able to see for ourselves.” Rick opened his mouth to argue but her expression brought him up short. It was Michonne’s turn to wear a satisfied smirk. “Six o’clock. I’ll stop by that new Thai place that we’ve been dying to try. Tell him I won’t take no for an answer.” She sauntered out the door, already marshaling her plans for the evening, well aware that Rick was rolling his eyes behind her. 

* * *

 

“Ms. Peletier,”  The voice came from far away, distant and vaguely familiar but Carol paid it no mind. 

She’d finished her lecture, passed out the assignment, and settled behind her desk as her students bent to their work. In the ensuing silence, she could hear him, reading again from London’s “The Call of the Wild.” His gravelly voice suited the stark story. It held her rapt. It made her completely unaware that one of her students had been calling her name for several minutes without her noticing. 

_“With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence.”  He paused there, lifting his head to look at his students. “Anybody wanna take a guess what London means here?”_

“Ms. Peletier!” 

“What?” Carol said sharply. Her class tittered behind their hands, several of the girls wearing knowing expressions. “I’m sorry, Enid. Did you need something?”

Enid nodded her head, hiding a smile behind her hand. “Are we supposed to have this done before the end of class or can we hand them in tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Carol stated firmly. “Tomorrow will be fine.” 

She was almost grateful when Michonne stuck her head through the door. “My house. Dinner. Six o’clock.” When Carol opened her mouth to demur, Michonne held up her hand. “Six o’clock, lady. See you then.”  

Carol nodded and then buried her head in her hands, consciously avoiding her students’ avid gazes. The thought crossed her mind that this day couldn’t any worse. 


End file.
